


Me too, my dear

by Tuvstarrs



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations
Genre: F/M, First Day of School, He is absent, LLF Comment Project, Sakura is virtually a single mother, Sarada is nervous, SasuSaku - Freeform, Sasuke is only mentioned though, Which is the whole point of the fic, and misses her Papa, melancholic piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuvstarrs/pseuds/Tuvstarrs
Summary: The happy moments are the hardest. Sasusaku. Slight canon Universe Alteration (UA).Takes place between the end of Naruto and beginning of the Boruto anime. A gift fic for a friend.





	Me too, my dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fanofthisfiction](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fanofthisfiction).



It was in moments like this that she missed him the most, the ache becoming almost unbearable.

The warm shimmer of the twilight welcomed in by the open windows draped the living room in a rose-coloured glow. The first light autumn-breeze spiritedly lifted the curtains, making them twirl around themselves in innocent pirouettes.

The playful display sharply contrasted the melancholic mood of the young woman standing in the centre of the room, meticulously ironing a small, pink dress. Not even the slightest wrinkle was allowed. Tomorrow her daughter would start school and take her first step to becoming a nin, and if that meant that she would stand there ironing the miniature dress until morning to be certain that her daughter would feel good about herself, then so be it.

Yes, it was exactly in moments like this that she missed him the most.

When her father had passed away two years ago with cancer, she had remained strong. Her relationship with her parents was, to say the least, complicated, but that didn’t hinder the strong love she felt, and the grief which overwhelmed her as they closed the casket. No, it wasn’t in pain and sorrow that she longed for him the most. Of course, she would have liked him to be by her side then, but she understood why he couldn’t, and she was more than capable of standing firm in strife and struggle.

No, it was in moments like this that she truly yearned for the companionship they shared. She grieved the idea of not being able to spend the exciting moment with her husband when she would ask little Sarada to pose for a photo in her new dress. Perhaps she would even have been able to talk him into posing for a family photo before the three of them had to rush to morning call if he had been home.

It was in moments of joy and elation that the longing threatened to crumble her resolve completely. She wished that he could have joined her and Sarada as they sat down to have dinner after a long and exhausting but joyful day of playing together when she had had one of those rare days off from the hospital. It was in the loneliness of the evenings, when her only company to share the 9 o'clock news with was a lukewarm cup of tea, that she couldn’t help but wish things had been different.

’Distance makes the heart grow fonder.’ Ridiculous nonsense. She had seen him leave many times, and each time it hurt just a little bit more. She was well aware of why he had to, of the responsibilities and guilt he carried, but that didn’t make it any easier. In rare, less than decent moments, she allowed herself to feel frustrated with the circumstances that had led to their current life situation. If she could have it her way, she would chain him to their bed and never let him leave the house again. She was simply happier when he was home.

Come to think of it, chaining him to the bed didn’t sound like such a bad idea in general. It had been far, far too long since they last had sex if she were to be completely honest with herself. Setting aside everything else, that was one of the things they shared as husband and wife she really missed.

She sighed and shook her head; nothing good would come out of letting her mind drift off to matters of that character, and she still had lots to do to prepare for the morning.

She returned her focus to the dress but soon found that her mind insisted on drifting tonight, to the morning, and to him.

Of course, she could always talk to the other mums and share the joint delight, and slight dread, it seemed it was only yesterday they were toddling around in nappies, in waving their precious children off to their first day of school, but it wasn’t the same as sharing the experience with him.

Looking out through the window, she could not help but fantasise of seeing his tall, dark silhouette walking up the pathway to their house. She knew the daydreams wouldn’t come true, and that she was silly to maintain them, but in the confinement of her home, when no one was around, she often let herself slip. She would welcome him home with a smile, perhaps an embrace and a kiss. She would help him shed his dusty coat and then lead him to sit down to rest his travel-weary frame on the sofa while she told him of everything that had happened since he had last been home. Sarada had just lost her first tooth. So now she spoke with a slight lisp and proudly donned a big gap where the front baby-tooth once sat. She would tell him small, domestic stories like that while they both enjoyed the simple pleasure of the close proximity to the other.

She threw one last look at the window, where the warm glow of the twilight had been replaced by the chilled darkness of the evening without her even noticing. She allowed herself one last childish wish for him to magically appear before shaking her head again at her own ridiculousness. Enough was enough.

Lifting the dress to critically judge her work, she deemed it appropriately straightened and put it aside to close the windows. While the days still held onto the last of the summer heat, the nights grew steadily colder.

When she turned around again, she found her daughter standing in the hallway, blearily rubbing tired eyes and dragging her favourite teddy-bear behind her, the one Sasuke had sent her for her last birthday, from wherever he was at the time.

“Mummy?”

“Yes, Sweetie? What are you doing out of bed? Can’t sleep?” She asked and walked over to her daughter. Sakura kneeled as she opened her arms for the young child. “What’s wrong Sarada? Nervous about tomorrow?”

“Um… Yes… I think so… My stomach feels a bit funny when I think about it,” Sarada answered, and buried her head in her mother’s shoulder as she was being picked up.

“It’s going to be perfectly fine. You know several of your new classmates already, and you’ll do great, I promise. Come on now; let’s get you back to bed,” Sakura said and carried her back to her bedroom. Once there she sat with her daughter, talking quietly about the morning and how exciting it was going to be until the little girl’s eyelids started drooping again. Sarada reached out and squeezed Sakura’s fingers in one last display of affection before she turned over, signalling that she wanted to go back to sleep. As Sakura soundlessly moved across the room to leave, Sarada let out a small sigh and voiced a single sentence that managed to both make her mother's heart ache for her daughter more than she ever thought possible, and reignite Sakura’s own longing from earlier.

“I wish Papa was here so he could follow me to school tomorrow.”

Closing the door Sakura swallowed heavily, and before she could stop herself a murmured answer slipped by her lips.

“Me too, my dear. Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So… I kind of killed off Sakura’s father to prove a point, I apologise to those of you who really liked him.
> 
> I also changed the starting age slightly from the only reference point I could find: Konohamaru starting the Academy at the age of 8, but from what I could gather the age can vary a bit depending on the child. In this fic, Sarada is six.
> 
>  
> 
> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
> Short comments
> 
> Long comments
> 
> Questions
> 
> Constructive criticism
> 
> “<3” as extra kudos
> 
> Reader-reader interaction
> 
> LLF Comment Builder
> 
> This author replies to comments.


End file.
